Finality
by ournoisyhearts
Summary: One hundred and thirty-one days after Regionals, Blaine finds out that it will have been the last time he ever saw Sebastian Smythe. Platonic Seblaine. WARNING FOR CHARACTER DEATH. Written for a prompt on tumblr.


**A response to the prompt "Seblaine lasts" on tumblr (as opposed to Seblaine firsts). I'm truly sorry about this one.**

* * *

Four months and eight days after Regionals, Blaine gets the call.

School only let out for the summer a week ago, and he's been spending basically every moment he can with Kurt (because it's _summer _and they _can_), so the sound of his phone blaring rather early on a Wednesday morning takes a moment to comprehend.

He rolls out of his bed and reaches for the device blearily without glancing at the caller ID, mumbling, "hello?"

"Blaine?" The voice sounds familiar, but Blaine's still sleep-muddled mind can't seem to place it. "Blaine—I'm not sure if you even care, but you should know—"

"Thad?" Blaine interrupts, finally able to recognize the voice on the other end of the line. Scrubbing at his eyes with the back of his palm, he continues, "it's really early. What's going on?"

"Blaine," Thad repeats, and his tone now lower, more resigned. "There's been an accident."

* * *

It sounds like something straight out of a movie. Or, better yet, everyone's worst nightmare; _there's been an accident. They didn't make it. _Looking back, Blaine thinks that those four words were what primarily sent him into shock, and not so much what happened afterwards. Thad's voice had released the panic in Blaine's chest, and it slowly began to claw its way up his throat, making it difficult to breathe.

He didn't even get a chance to go to the hospital. They said it was no use; he was already gone, and his parents were making funeral preparations. _Funeral. _It had sounded so completely and utterly final; there wasn't even a single hope, no comatose body hooked up to machines that might have the chance of awakening. No, it was just a body, now, being placed into a box and lowered down, down into the ground, for the rest of however long.

As soon as he hung up the phone, Blaine cried.

* * *

One hundred and thirty-one days after Regionals, Blaine finds out that it will have been the last time he ever saw Sebastian Smythe.

* * *

He doesn't go the funeral. Instead, he curls up under the covers of his bed despite the stifling heat and tucks his head into his arms, listening to the sound of his own breathing.

_In, out._

The sun shouldn't be shining today. It shouldn't be a warm, pleasant morning in late June, because nothing about life is warm and pleasant, especially not _today_.

Sebastian was never very warm to begin with, but now his body is cold, too, just like his insides. So cold—

Blaine's chest wracks with sobs, and he presses his cheek against his tear-stained pillowcase.

* * *

Four months and twenty-one days ago, Blaine last touched Sebastian Smythe.

Arms outstretched, hands clasping, in a way that said, _it's over, now _and _I'm sorry _and _let's start over. _Blaine can still feel the phantom touch of rough fingers against his own, the heat that radiated from Sebastian's palm.. They had shared the smallest of smiles, something hesitant yet genuine. _We can do this._

Except they never got the chance.

Sebastian didn't call, and Blaine was so caught up in Kurt and Nationals that he hadn't tried, either. They didn't speak, didn't see each other at all after that, but Blaine hadn't thought it was a big deal, because both of them would still be around for another year, and that was plenty of time.

_Time._

It's a funny concept, isn't it?

* * *

One month and two days _after_, Blaine spikes his coffee with courvoisier.

He dumps it out in the bathroom sink, but not before allowing the alcohol to burn his throat a little bit.

* * *

Five months and twenty-eight days ago, Blaine last spoke to Sebastian Smythe.

_That means nothing to me._

He thinks those might be the most foul words he's ever said.

* * *

In October, when Blaine has to go and screw everything up, Kurt spits the accusation into his face.

"It was Sebastian, wasn't it?"

And when Blaine chokes out that it doesn't matter, he can't tell whether he's crying because of his boyfriend, the missed opportunities, or both.


End file.
